


haha, jk

by relenafanel



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Best Friends, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky thinks he's shit at it but Sam doesn't even know he's supposed to be doing anything, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Moving On, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pride and Prejudice References, Romantic Comedy, Steve/Others (in context of trying to move on), That's not how bros act Bucky, Unrequited Love, Wingman Sam Wilson, get your shit together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6761359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relenafanel/pseuds/relenafanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(A tale of Not Unrequited Love)</p><p>Steve: I love you.<br/>Bucky: <i>oh no</i>.<br/>(and other fallacies) </p><p>Bucky learns to never say never when it comes to the effect his best friend can have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	haha, jk

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be rough at first. It's going to be painful. If you don't think you can read Bucky trying to gently let Steve down, you probably should skip this one.
> 
> (but then Bucky spends approx. the next 10k freaking out over his growing interest in Steve ~~'s dick~~ so)

“I’m in love with you,” Steve said, looking directly at Bucky.  He had his hands clenched into fists at his sides, chin tilted up in a look of defiance, the same mulish expression he used any time he was either expecting an argument or to be hurt.

 

“I love you too,” Bucky answered him, frowning at Steve in concern.  Had he done something recently that would make Steve expect the verbal equivalent of a punch?  Of course Steve loved him, of course Bucky loved Steve.  That had been established a decade ago.  If Steve felt the need to start a conversation by reminding Bucky of that fact, then Bucky was in for a long, drawn out exchange that started with them yelling at each other and ended with them crying all over the other’s shoulder.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m IN LOVE with you,” Steve repeated, holding his gaze.  His jaw ticked as he squared his shoulders even more and stared directly at Bucky.  His eyes looked terrified and for a moment it was all Bucky could focus on.

 

“You’re…” Bucky started to question exactly what he meant, not hearing the difference between ‘I love you’ and ‘IN LOVE with you’. Until he did.  “OHH,” he finished as the contrast between the two was suddenly clear in his mind.  “ ** _Oh no_**.”

 

The words were blurted out with no thought to how they would sound hanging in the air between him and Steve.  He wanted to take them back immediately, even before he witnessed the effect they had on his best friend.  Steve’s defensive and defiant, but ultimately hopeful stance completely melted into slumped shoulders and anguish.  

 

Steve looked…

 

Defeat was a bearing Bucky rarely saw on Steve.  Steve barely blinked after losing fights that left him beaten but not broken, and he hadn’t reacted after being turned down by people he was interested in from the ages of 12 to 17.  Steve never, ever looked…

 

Like someone had taken away every last shred of hope left in him.

 

And Bucky knew that this moment mattered to Steve, more than any of that.  Bucky knew Steve well enough to understand that without ever having to witness the expression on his face.  If Bucky had been watching the situation from the sidelines, the way Steve crumbled before his eyes would have been his sign that Steve was hiding a breakable heart.  One that Bucky had crushed with ease.

 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, his hand reaching forward but falling short of touching Steve’s shoulder.  There was a pit of horror in his stomach, a queasiness that made him desperate to turn back the clock.  “That didn’t come out right.”

 

Steve looked up, his expression barely holding back his emotions, and Bucky knew at a glance, taking in the color of Steve’s cheeks, the tenseness of his mouth, and the sheen of his eyes, that Steve was on the verge of crying the kind of tears that didn’t stop once they started.  “I think you expressed exactly what you meant,” Steve responded, and despite his expression, the words were strong.

 

“No. It was callous to just blurt it out like that.  I reacted, and…”

 

There was a subtle change when Steve went from wanting to cry to wanting to use those emotions to speak his mind, and it was in the narrowing of his eyes as he looked directly at Bucky.  “You blurting it out was informative.  You don’t _want to_ start a relationship with me.  You’ve never even considered it, have you?”

 

Bucky hesitated.  _You could fix this_ , a voice said in the back of his mind.

 

He shook his head no instead.

 

Steve nodded in response to him.  “Ok,” he answered, and his voice wavered a tiny amount.  Bucky could tell that Steve was doing his best to regroup, but that tiny waver was like a sword piercing through both of them.

 

Bucky was breaking his best friend’s heart, and in turn it was breaking his to do it.  “I’ve never thought about it.  You’re everything to me, you know that.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but it’s never been in the context of...”  This time he did reach forward and grasped Steve’s hand.  “I’ve never thought about it.” 

 

“What if you had time to think about it?”

 

Steve was one of the only people Bucky knew who could have a conversation like this without shying away from saying what needed to be said, and to somehow sound hopeful, determined, and disappointed all at the same time.  He was putting himself completely out there.

 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, shaking his head.  “If I thought even for a second that the answer could be maybe, I’d promise to try, even if it was to think about it.  I just… I’d do anything for you, Steve, even this, but I don’t think that’s what you mean.”

 

Steve shook his head.  It wasn’t a simple denial, it was a surprised, horrified one, like he didn’t even want to think of Bucky forcing himself to love Steve.  That was one of the things Bucky did love about him.  “God, no. I don’t want you to force it, I just want…” and here his voice broke.  Steve had taken punches, both physical and mental, without so much as a waver, but Bucky not being able to give Steve what he wanted was the one thing that broke through his fortifying walls.  It made Bucky feel tiny, because he’d promised to always support Steve, to always give him what he needed, but the one thing Steve asked him for he couldn’t do. 

 

Bucky frantically tried to think of a way to comfort Steve.

 

“You don’t think… Are you sure it can never happen?”  Steve was crying now, tears coming out of the corner of his eyes and trailing down to his chin.  Bucky blinked, his own vision blurring as he realized that he was doing the same.

 

“Yeah,” he said as he started crying in earnest, the word forced out through a throat that felt swollen through the pain.  “I’m sure.  I’m so sorry, Stevie.”  He squeezed Steve’s hand, not wanting to let go even though Steve hadn’t made a move to pull away.

 

Steve nodded, still trying to be strong in the face of Bucky’s rejection, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to gather Steve to him, because he was still and always would be Steve’s best friend.  But, it occurred to him, maybe that was the last thing Steve needed.

 

“Do you need me not to touch you?” Bucky questioned, pulling his hands away from Steve’s. It was a difficult thing to offer, and he was desperately trying not to resent the way Steve’s admission had shaken the strong foundation of their relationship.  Bucky knew he was being overly dramatic to think that they’d never be the same after this, because they were Steve and Bucky.  They’d find an equilibrium.

 

Right now?  Right now all he could think was that it would be impossible not to look at everything through the lens of Steve being in love with him.

 

It was just a strange feeling to be so out of sync that he had to even think about the fact that they weren’t on the same page.  He hated himself a bit for that thought because obviously Steve had been experiencing this for a while, and Bucky had been blithely assuming their relationship would never change.  He’d taken Steve Rogers for granted.

 

No. It was worse than that.  He hadn’t even thought of Steve as someone it was possible to take for granted, their relationship unchanged for more than twenty years.  Bucky had always thought Steve would just be there as his best friend and the light of his life, but in the most platonic of senses. 

 

“No,” Steve answered, pulling Bucky in tightly.  “I need my best friend right now,” he said, “I need you, and I can’t… please don’t leave me alone right now if you can stomach me touching you.”

 

“Stevie,” Bucky chided, and his heart broke because fuck.  Fuck everything.  Steve was so brave to say what he was feeling, and Bucky hated the fact that he didn’t feel it too.  He would, for Steve.  If he even thought for a second that it was possible to look at Steve and feel even the slightest bit of interest that Steve felt for him, Bucky would say so.

 

“I know, I know you would,” Steve sobbed into Bucky’s shirt, and Bucky realized that he was murmuring the words out loud into Steve’s hair.

 

“I do love you,” Bucky promised, squeezing Steve as tightly as he could.  _Please don’t leave because it’s not the way you want me to_ , he didn’t have the courage to ask.

 

x.x.x.

 

Bucky felt like shit.  Steve had been the one who spent an hour crying, falling asleep on the couch with tear tracks drying on his face, and Bucky had sat on the coffee table watching him, his wet shirt cold against his skin and his hand stroking through Steve’s hair like he did when Steve was so sick he was vulnerable with it.

 

Then Bucky had draped a blanket over Steve and fled to his room so he could cry by himself, because Steve didn’t deserve to be put in a position where he had to comfort Bucky when Bucky was the one who tore out his heart.

 

Bucky deserved to cry alone.

 

Bucky felt like the shittiest best friend in the world, his stomach hurt with how hollow he felt when he looked at Steve, seeing the gaping chasm between them.  Steve wasn’t a stranger to him, but there was this huge aspect of his life that he’d kept to himself, and had been keeping to himself, and now that Bucky was aware of it, he didn’t know how to talk to him.  He didn’t know whether he should address it or ignore it.  He didn’t know if Steve wanted to go back to the way things were, even if he said Bucky was still his best friend. 

 

Realistically he knew the feeling would pass, and realistically he knew it would take time, but the tired and sulking selfish part of him wanted to bypass all of that and pretend everything was the same.

 

The two of them spent the day listlessly in each other’s space, barely talking but both of them too stubborn to hide it out in their own bedrooms.  “We’re supposed to meet Sam in an hour,” Bucky reminded Steve when the notification popped up on his phone.

 

“Yeah,” Steve answered in a tone that reflected exactly how Bucky felt about it.  It completely lacked enthusiasm.  “It’ll be good to get back to normal.”

 

“You go,” Bucky answered and the words were out of his mouth before he could think about how selfish they were. 

 

“Bucky, please,” Steve responded.  “Don’t… don’t pull away.  Whatever we decide, it has to be together or I’m not sure tomorrow will be easier.  Or the next day.  I don’t want to lose you entirely.  I can’t…”

 

He nodded, swallowing hard.  “Of course.”  The last thing he wanted was to meet Sam for food.  Bucky wanted to take the day to mourn, but Steve stared at him like he wanted to go out, and Bucky felt like he couldn’t deny him the little things, not now, not while Steve was still asking Bucky to be around him.

 

It was strange, sitting beside Steve in the booth they usually sat in if it was available, noticing the way Steve was suddenly looking at the people around him as though seeing strangers for the first time.

 

Did Steve never… look at other people besides Bucky?  Surely Bucky had witnessed Steve checking people out.  Bucky did it all the time.

 

Which… not exactly the best realization to have.  Now he was going to dwell on the idea that while he’d been checking out other people Steve was watching him.  How many times had he unintentionally hurt Steve?

 

“I want to move on,” Steve told him, sliding Bucky’s arm from around his shoulder.  “I need to try.”

 

Bucky stared at him, not even aware he’d been doing anything that would make Steve uncomfortable.  Steve hadn’t tensed when Bucky had touched him.  Steve had just accepted it.  Steve had accepted it until the pretty girl with the brown hair had laughed at something her friend said, head thrown back in enjoyment.  Bucky had noticed it too.

 

“I…” Bucky said, uncertain, his equilibrium thrown off.  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” Steve answered him, slightly frustrated.  “But I don’t think I’m very good at looking available on my own.  If you’re always draped over me, it doesn’t give me a fair chance.”

 

Bucky nodded.  “Yeah, of course.  You don’t want to look like you’re in a relationship.”  And wasn’t that even more jarring than being asked to stop doing something he’d been doing for ages?  He hadn’t even considered what it would look like to an outsider.

 

Steve shook his head sadly.  “I don’t want to _feel_ like I’m in a relationship.  I’m too comfortable with you, even now that I know that we can’t be together.  Part of me likes keeping the status quo.  It would be easier to just keep… pining over you, even with your answer.”

 

Bucky had no idea if his face showed the kind of horror he felt on the inside.  Had he been fucking up Steve’s love life all this time?  Bucky liked putting his arm around his best friend.  It was comfortable.  It made him feel good to still be able to tuck Steve against him, even now that Steve was larger than he was.  “Okay,” he agreed, because he didn’t know what else to say.  “Yeah, I can do that.”

 

It was as easy as moving over about a foot on the bench they were sitting on, putting space between Steve and himself.  It sounded easy.  It was anything but.  There was something clenching in Bucky’s chest that felt like loss.

 

“Whoa,” Sam said, sliding in across from them and pouring himself a drink from the shared pitcher of beer.  He looked at Steve and then narrowed his eyes at Bucky.  “Are you two fighting?”

 

“No,” Steve answered in a firm tone.  Bucky picked at his fries, not doing much more than nibbling at the crunchy tips of them.  Half of the ones on his plate were partially eaten.  Steve had that stubborn expression on his face that he used when he was going to make sure that what he said eventually reflected reality.  Steve was the only person Bucky knew who could make things happen just because he was too much of a stubborn asshole to believe that he’d fail.

 

“Bucky?” Sam questioned, because Sam had known Steve for longer than a week and so also knew his habits.

 

“It’s fine,” Bucky insisted.

 

“I’m going to go get a refill,” Steve said, grabbing the pitcher from the center of the table.  It had just enough in it for another glass, and he poured it into Bucky’s without asking if he wanted more to drink.

 

Bucky gritted his teeth and looked at Steve.  He forced his face into a friendly expression.  “Maybe chat up the brunette?” he suggested with a grin, because there were reasons that Steve and Bucky had been friends all their lives.  “She’s been sending you flirty glances for the last fifteen minutes.”

 

“Maybe,” Steve agreed, sliding off the bench seat.

 

“Ok, what’s up?” Sam questioned the moment Steve was out of earshot.  “The two of you are playing fake-it-till-you-make-it around each other, and it’s weirding me out.”

 

“Steve should…” Bucky responded, looking towards the bar.  He blinked in surprise, because Steve was actually speaking to the woman with the brown hair and the seductive laugh.  It had been a while since Steve hadn’t immediately rebuffed flirtation from strangers, and knowing that the reason behind it was him resulted in a complicated series of emotions that ranged from guilt to an ugly sense of pride.  “It’s his story to tell.”

 

Sam looked at Steve, the uncomfortable expression on his face as he smiled back at someone he was attempting to make conversation with, taking in the way Steve had his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up to his ears.  Steve was fantastic at getting out of conversations he didn’t want to be a part of.  He was less great at flirting.  “Steve’s busy chatting up the brunette,” Sam pointed out, facing Bucky.  “He’s taking your advice.”

 

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about it,” Bucky admitted, chewing on another fry before deciding he didn’t want to eat that one either.

 

“Yeah, well, Steve’s…” Sam looked over again.  “Oh hell,” he said, and his eyes were wide by the time they met Bucky’s.  “ _Oh hell_ ,” he said again, with so much feeling that Bucky sank down in his seat.  “He told you.”

 

Bucky shrugged, outwardly playing it like he didn’t know what Sam was talking about.  He felt a sense of disquiet, his throat thick like he was about to cry again.  If Sam knew, if everyone knew, there was no graceful way for this to be over.  Sam was Steve’s friend first and Bucky was starting to panic. 

 

He wouldn’t just lose Steve.

 

Sam observed him carefully.  “Well, I can’t say I didn’t think that outcome was a possibility.  Was it a hard no or are you taking the time to… No, if it was anything other than a hard no, Steve wouldn’t be over there doing his ‘aww shucks’ routine with a stranger.”

 

Bucky shrugged again and willed himself not to cry in public. Sure, crying felt self-indulgent, but he wanted to save face more.  Sometimes, all he had was the ability to pretend he was ok, and Bucky was going to hold on to that. “He’s my best friend.  It would be like dating my sister.”

 

“I can see that, especially between the two of you.  You’ve known him for a long time,” Sam continued.  “I don’t know what my childhood best friend is doing anymore.  I don’t even have him on Facebook.”

 

Bucky took a sip of his drink so he wouldn’t have to comment.  He couldn’t say that had ever been a very real concern of his.  Before the last 24 hours.

 

And, really, it must have been a concern of Steve’s for longer, but this was new to him and the thought of he and Steve only being Facebook friends was horrifying.

 

“I can feel you freaking out from over here. The two of you are solid is what I’m saying.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, not looking up from his plate of fries.  “Sure.”

 

x.x.x.

 

Life went on.

 

Life went on for approximately two days before Bucky’s brain broke completely and he decided to say ‘fuck it’ and just pretend he was ok with everything.

 

“I’m going to be the best damn wingman you’ve ever had,” Bucky declared, standing in front of the television as Steve tried to watch one of his boring documentaries (and Bucky liked documentaries – Steve’s were just a level of mind-numbingly dull that Bucky refused to watch with him).  He couldn’t take the silence anymore, so maybe actively helping Steve would make it better.  “You want to move on?  I will pave the way.”

 

“Sam’s my wingman,” Steve answered.

 

“What good has Sam done you?” Bucky pointed out, gesturing to himself.  “He never tried to get _me_ into your bed.”

 

Actually, if Bucky thought about it really hard, he could identify at least two moments where Sam had mentioned something like ‘so Steve’s attractive’ in a way that made Bucky think Sam was lowkey into Steve’s dick for someone whose self-proclaimed sexuality was _as straight as possible, though Steve’s handsome, right Bucky?_ Yeah, ok, maybe it happened more than twice.

 

Bucky was used to sexuality not being rigidly set that he hadn’t even noticed.

 

“Are we joking about this now?” Steve questioned, unimpressed.   “I liked it better when you were freaking out.”

 

“Why does everyone think I’m freaking out,” Bucky snapped defensively.  “I wasn’t freaking out.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I have legitimate concerns.”

 

“I know.  Come sit next to me for the rest of the movie.  Please?”

 

Bucky silently crossed the room and flopped down on the couch next to Steve, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

One very boring hour and a half later, the end credits were rolling and Steve turned to look at him.  “I think we’re both allowed to be a little weird this week,” he pointed out, “but you just sat through something you hated just because I asked.  So acknowledge the fact you’re freaking out.”

 

“Fine!”  Bucky hoped Steve didn’t also ask him to acknowledge the fact he was sulking.   “I’m freaking the fuck out, Steve.  We have all these habits I need to break, and I’ve unintentionally treated you like shit for years, and I really hurt you in a way I’ve never wanted to see you hurt.”

 

“And people say I’m dramatic,” Steve smiled at him, for the first time _since_ , and dragged Bucky across the couch so that Bucky could lean against him.  “We’re a mess.”

 

Bucky sniffed.  He really didn’t deserve a best friend like Steve.

 

“But please don’t be my wingman.  It’s really awkward for me to think that I might go out with someone because you handpicked them.”

 

“Ok, fine,” Bucky would just be subtler than that.

 

x.x.x.

 

They decided that nightly-or-as-often-as-possible movie nights were the way to go for things not to be weird between them.

 

It was probably a stupid decision considering they now had a date night.

 

A _date_ night.

 

Steve should be out with Sam trying to meet people, but instead he was inside with Bucky watching Netflix. 

 

Bucky did less than he should to discourage it.  He liked the attention. 

 

He was a piece of shit.

 

x.x.x.

 

Bucky awoke both aroused and feeling guilty. He couldn't remember his dream except for the slide of skin against skin and the sense of Steve, and he wondered what his mind had conjured up. He couldn't seem to gather his thoughts into anything that made sense, but there was a sensation of shame hot in the pit of his stomach that was more of a clue than anything else was.

 

Fuck.

 

That was totally Steve’s fault for putting the idea in his mind.

 

He rolled over, but couldn't fall back to sleep when his skin felt tight and he couldn’t help but be unsettled by the sensation of the sheets against his legs.  He felt wrong, so wrong in his own skin. Eventually, he got up and grabbed gym clothes, leaving Steve a note - not so Steve would join him but so Steve could reorganize his day so that he wouldn’t wait for Bucky to keep to THEIR schedule.

 

"Good call on the gym," Steve said to him later, drinking water at the counter and staring at the rice-maker as though it would magically finish.  Steve was so impatient about cooking that Bucky would rather make all of their meals than watch Steve lift the cover and sigh because nothing was cooked yet (letting the _steam out_ jfc Steve).  "You know that guy you compete with on the treadmill? He treated me to the juice bar after I was done working out.  You told me once that you thought he dropped the dumbbell on his foot because he was watching my ass."

 

Bucky remembered. 

 

"That guy is clearly an asshole," Bucky responded, and he felt sick to his stomach. Steve could do so much better than that guy. Bucky only competed with him because his face went red and blotchy when he was losing and Bucky thought it was hilarious. The guy _dropped_ a dumbbell on his _foot_. That guy? Really Steve?  “I didn’t mean for you to date him.”

 

Steve deserved _so_ much better. Steve deserved a winner, or at least a graceful loser.

 

“I know,” he answered. “We didn't really hit it off.  But it was nice that he tried, you know?”

 

“Sure,” Bucky answered, feeling cross.  When he said he’d be the best wingman ever that wasn’t what he meant.  It didn’t count when Bucky pointed it out to tease Steve and mock the other person.  It really didn’t count.  “Don’t open the lid on the rice!” he snapped, slapping Steve’s hand away. 

 

Steve scowled at him. 

 

Bucky sucked up his discontent on the matter and leaned back against the counter.  “So why didn’t you hit it off?”

 

x.x.x.

 

The sense of disquiet didn’t fully go away, but it eased.  Bucky could see Steve trying and the effort naggled at him in a way he couldn’t admit to anyone, even himself.  He felt like the world’s biggest asshole that Steve trying to move on from loving Bucky made him jealous, an ugly pit of hopeless anger swelling in his stomach.

 

Or maybe Steve’s bad flirting skills were giving him an ulcer.

 

So Bucky, attempting to quell that feeling or at least hide it, made Steve a list of online dating services and what people actually used them for, and handed it over when Steve noted that Dumbbell kept asking him out to the point where Bucky spent 30 minutes on the treadmill glaring at the guy as though he had the justification to be possessive where Steve was concerned.

 

And staring at someone on your right while full-out running on a treadmill? Intimidatingly difficult.

 

Steve thanked him for the list but ultimately thought even that advice would be too weird to take from him, but Bucky really had doubts about Sam’s skills in the love department.  Sam would probably encourage Steve to rebound with Dumbbell based on the puppy eyes he gave Steve every time they went to the gym.

 

“It would probably be a better experience to lick the elliptical handles than ride his dick, safer too.  Less germs,” Bucky muttered to Steve the next time Dumbbell stared at Steve.

 

“What the fuck, Bucky?” Steve breathed, and almost tripped on the treadmill, his stride going uneven.  “I’m not going to ride his dick.”

 

Then he looked embarrassed because he’d declared that pretty loudly over the ambient noise of people working out, but Bucky just used the opportunity to smile smugly in Dumbbell’s direction because that’s what bros did.

 

x.x.x.

 

Bucky jumped on the couch, his toes seeking out the warmth beneath Steve’s thighs, knowing that it wouldn’t break Steve’s concentration.  Eventually, he’d come out of drawing-mode and realize that Bucky’s toes were digging into him and be annoyed by it, but while he was in the zone he was completely oblivious. 

 

Typically, that was what happened.

 

Steve concentrating was a beautiful sight, his face going through a number of emotions as it reacted to the image in his brain as he got it down on paper.  Instead, Steve sighed at the weight of Bucky digging under him and looked over.  He hadn’t been concentrating about art.  He’d been thinking too hard about other things.  “I have a date tonight,” he said, maintaining eye contact with Bucky.

 

Oh.

 

That was good. 

 

Really.  Really good.

 

Excellent.

 

Steve dating.

 

Awesome.

 

That was the goal.  Right?

 

Best subtle wingman ever.

 

Bucky had expected that to happen weeks ago, but instead Steve took his time with it, not acting with the type of impulse Bucky had been worried he might.  Steve couldn’t even wait 20 minutes for rice to cook, he was definitely the type of person who would try to rush something like getting back into the dating game, pick the first person who came along, and then stay with them for 3 years.

 

Maybe. 

 

Actually, Bucky didn’t know what kind of dater Steve was, and that was disturbing.  When was the last date Steve had been on? 

 

“Yeah?” Bucky questioned curiously.  “Male or female or…?”

 

“Female,” Steve filled in, burying his face in his hands.  “And I’m… I’m nervous.”

 

“That’s a good thing, right?” Bucky questioned.  “If you’re nervous, you want it to work?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

More than anything, Bucky hoped that Steve could find someone to move on with, but at the same time he was terrified of what would happen when he did.  Would any significant other accept Bucky still being in Steve’s life?  Would they consider it normal for Bucky and Steve to be roommates, or would that be something that held back Steve’s happiness?  He feared it with a selfish sense of apprehension.

 

Bucky _was_ selfish.  He didn’t know if he could let Steve go entirely.  He wanted to wake up in the morning to find that Steve had already made coffee.  He wanted to keep hording soup in the freezer for when Steve invariably got one of his seasonal colds.  He wanted to tuck his toes under Steve’s thigh when the floor was chilly or come home to the scents of paint and turpentine heavy on the air because Steve had dragged his art out of the closet.

 

It wouldn’t be the same with anyone else, and Bucky was starting to become aware of all the things that would have to change as a result of his decision.

 

Sometimes it felt like the worst choice he had ever made.  Surely he could have faked interest in Steve’s dick so he could remain happy with the way Steve stress-cleaned the washroom when he was frustrated?  He would have made it so good for Steve just to see him smile.  He felt disgusting for even wishing he’d put more consideration into that as an option, because Steve deserved more than Bucky pretending to want him so things didn’t have to change.

 

But Bucky was miserable, and it felt like it was getting worse with every step that Steve took away from him.

 

“It’ll be good for you,” he managed to say, his throat closing at the idea of Steve leaving him.  “I’ve got to…” he gestured vaguely before escaping to his bedroom.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

Hiding didn’t help anything, so eventually Bucky got himself together and went to sit in the living room, listening to Steve shower and curse over shaving and generally spend so much time in their very clean bathroom it was like a role reversal had happened.  Bucky was the vain one.  Steve just… made minimal effort and still managed to look like he was on the cover of a magazine for men.

 

He tried not to laugh when Steve hurried between the bathroom and the bedroom and the air smelled like Steve’s shampoo and the cologne Bucky had bought him once but he’d never really worn.  Usually he just borrowed Bucky’s which usually annoyed him, but now made a lot of sense.

 

A LOT of sense.

 

Fuck.  Steve had _wanted_ to smell like Bucky, and he no longer did.  That was going to take some brainpower to adjust to.

 

“I don’t know what to wear,” Steve said, emerging from his bedroom with a black turtleneck on a hanger in his hand.  “I think this is the only shirt I haven’t tried on,” he continued, shaking it. “Is this date appropriate?”

 

“Are you planning to rob a convenience store?” Bucky questioned.  “Go to a poetry slam?”

 

“No,” Steve answered, and the terrible thing was that he was completely serious.

 

Yep.  Steve was freaking out.  It should be awesome and hilarious to witness the return of 15-year-old Steve.

 

It was not.

 

Bucky sighed and got to his feet.  “Come on, then,” he said, passing Steve and walking into his bedroom.  Steve was more or less being literal about the amount of shirts he tried on.

 

“I made piles for yes, no and maybe,” Steve fretted.

 

There was one large pile.  “Are all these ‘no’s or ‘maybe’s?” Bucky asked, and he was vaguely curious to know how Steve’s brain worked.  Bucky dressed himself before his dates by considering his closet mentally, knowing what was clean, what was appropriate for the venue, and what level of sexy he wanted to bring.  He didn’t know how other people’s brains worked.

 

“They’re ‘no.’  Did you notice that all my shirts look the same?”  Steve asked this with a straight face and a somber level of seriousness.

 

The same as in _tight_.

 

Bucky pursed his lips so he wouldn’t laugh.  “You don’t say,” he managed to respond.  “At least you keep to the colors you look good in.”  Bucky surveyed the pile before pulling out a button-up blue shirt, keeping to the basics.  He’d always liked Steve in dark greys and greens as well as his trademark blues, reds, and whites.

 

No, Bucky couldn’t live with himself if he suggested Steve wear one of his white t-shirts.  He didn’t want to kill Steve’s date before they even got to know each other.  If Steve wore one of the shirts that you could see the outline of his abs through, he wouldn’t really blame anyone from getting up and walking away from that because they were overwhelmed by the perfection.

 

Bucky was an awesome wingman.

 

Steve, even though he liked the color red, looked better in darker tones.  Something about his Irish complexion.  Bucky considered this as he pulled a red t-shirt out of the pile.  Steve’s appearance could be devastating and it was best to offset that by making him seem down to earth.  He was doing the woman a favor.

 

Bucky held both pieces up in front of Steve and looked at them with a critical eye. 

 

“The red shirt, really?” Steve asked.  “You always say it brings out my red undertones so it looks like I’m perpetually flushed.”

 

“It’ll humanize you,” Bucky responded.  “Don’t you want her to think you’re attracted to her?”

 

Steve made a face at him and grabbed one of his white t-shirts.  “See, I do listen to you sometimes,” he said in a sulky tone, pulling the white shirt over his head. 

 

“Hey,” Bucky observed as Steve buttoned up the plaid shirt, sorting through Steve’s pile of clothing.  “Is this my deep-v t-shirt?  I thought the washing machine ate it.”  Bucky pulled the shirt he was wearing over his head and pulled on the shirt he’d found.  It had been missing for a few years now and once, in his wild early-twenties, it had been his favorite.

 

“The fact that it’s thin enough for that to be a possibility says a lot,” Steve said, and even without the red shirt, his face was flushed.

 

“Aww, you think it’s sexy.  Were you hiding it on purpose?” Bucky teased.

 

Steve ignored him.  That was probably for the best.  Bucky was just one shade away from flirting with him because he didn’t know how to turn that off, and it might be a little weird if he tried.  He wondered if Steve had ever tried on the shirt.  If his normal white ones were indecent, how would he look in the types of materials Bucky favored?  It was probably not something to dwell on. 

 

“These ones,” he said to Steve, tossing him a pair of jeans instead of allowing the silence between them to fester.

 

Steve hesitated for just a moment before unbuttoning his pants and pushing them off.  “Not the nice pants?” he asked, shoving his legs into the jeans Bucky selected.

 

“I thought you said you were going out for drinks,” Bucky answered.  “Is there more later?”

 

Steve actively blushed this time.  Bucky kind of loved Steve’s fair skin.  It made ribbing him so much more rewarding.  “No… I… I’m not planning on it.  I mean, I’ll be prepared…”

 

“Ooooh,” Bucky smirked.  “That’s not what I meant.  Jeans for drinks.  Pants for a nice restaurant.”  He knew the minute that Steve tugged on the jeans that they were all wrong.  He’d thought they’d be tighter, but with the shirt Steve was wearing the structured fit made them look like grandpa jeans.

 

“What do you think?” Steve asked, spreading his arms wide as he showed off his outfit.  “They look great to me.”

 

“Eugh,” Bucky answered, reaching forward and tugging at Steve’s belt loops.  “The jeans are a trainwreck, Rogers.”  He tried rearranging the hem of Steve’s shirt over them, knowing that it was hopeless for Steve to stay in any kind of artfully-arranged dishevelment for long.  They both looked down at where Bucky’s hands were.

 

“Nope,” Bucky said, reaching the button and zipper on the front, digging his fingers into the top of Steve’s jeans in order to undo them. 

 

Steve inhaled sharply.  “Don’t,” he said, grabbing Bucky’s hands before they could finish undoing the zipper.  Steve looked at him, their faces lined up closely before he blinked and looked away, focusing on the single sock poking out from under the bed.  “I’m aroused right now.”

 

“I’ve seen you hard before, Rogers,” Bucky pointed out, his fingers popping open the button on Steve’s pants.

 

“Yeah,” Steve swallowed and then looked back at him, giving him that intense look that marked whenever he was about to say something that took courage.  “But you’ve never known what the cause was before.”

 

Bucky snorted.  “Please.  I’m an attractive guy, I’d be insulted if half of your boners weren’t my fault even before I knew for sure.”

 

“Bucky,” Steve hissed, firmly grabbing his hands right after Bucky finished easing his pants down over his hips.  “Enough.”

 

There was enough command in his tone that Bucky knew that Steve needed him to stop this time, he wasn’t just trying to protect what he thought were Bucky’s delicate sensibilities over Steve’s attraction to him.

 

“Ok,” Bucky answered with a grin, stepping away with his hands held where Steve could see them.  He looked down to see Steve’s black boxer briefs, his eyes immediately seeking out the hard line of Steve’s cock so he could gauge for himself exactly how much of an affect he’d had.  “At least you got the underwear right,” Bucky joked, licking his lips.  A huge effect.  Nice.

 

“You’re the worst,” Steve griped.  He looked down at himself too, eyebrows drawn together with darker concerns than Bucky had.  “What am I supposed to wear, then?”

 

“Do you want to show off your ass or your dick?” Bucky questioned directly.  “Because she might only see your ass when you’re walking away, but you don’t want to intimidate her either.”

 

“Oh my god,” Steve said in a futile tone.  “Bucky!”

 

“These ones,” Bucky answered, pulling out a pair of Steve’s jeans with a sense of finality.  “These are the answer to everything.”

 

“Do I even want to know what they show off?”

 

“Oh Stevie.”  Bucky patted Steve’s cheek, slightly condescending.  Then he repeated, “ _everything_.”

 

x.x.x.

 

Bucky had learned how to adapt himself to Steve’s health so long ago that it came natural now.  He cooked a whole chicken at least once a month so he would always have a stockpile of his grandmother’s soup in the freezer.  He kept a spare inhaler and an epipen in his bedroom, so even if he couldn’t locate Steve’s, he knew where the spares were.

 

So when Steve started dating, Bucky started stocking other things.

 

“There’s a box of condoms in the drawer beside you,” Bucky told him, not looking up from his computer as Steve put on his jacket.

 

“This hasn’t been open,” Steve noticed.

 

“Did you think I’d offer you some of mine?” Bucky questioned.  “So you’d go on your date wondering where the other half went?”

 

That, unfortunately, was kind of appealing.  In a troll-y best friend kind of way.

 

“This conversation is making me uncomfortable,” Steve noted, making a face that Bucky could see in his peripheral vision.

 

“So will chlamydia,” Bucky pointed out.  “So take a few of them.”

 

“I know how to look after myself,” Steve sulked.

 

“I have a story from college that ends with both of us sitting in a clinic that says differently.”

 

Steve’s scowl became more pronounced.  Bucky finally looked up from his computer and grinned at him.  “I put little packets of lube in the pocket of your jacket.  Don’t accidentally pull all of them out with your wallet and have them fall all over the bar like sex confetti.”

 

“I hate you,” Steve answered pointedly.  “That happened once."

 

“Once too many,” Bucky teased.

 

"If you want to talk about embarrassing things, what about that time you thought it was a good idea to share your girlfriend's track pants and broke your nose on her chin falling out of bed?”

 

"This probably isn't a game you want to play, Mr. _Didn't-know-what-edging-was_. How about I remind you of that story?"

 

Steve glared at him.  "I'm leaving."

 

x.x.x.

 

It wasn’t until later, when Bucky had shoved Steve out the door with reminders about how to behave on a first date that undoubtedly made Steve more nervous than he was to begin with, that he sat back and thought about what a good bro he was with a sense of smugness.

 

Then.

 

He realized how strange it all had been to help Steve get ready for a date.  How good he looked in the clothing Bucky selected for him.  It gave him an odd thrill of pride.

 

Then.

 

Bucky thought about Steve’s date peeling off the jeans Bucky had selected for him to wear, easing them down over his hips to discover what was underneath them.  He thought about her appreciating the lines of Steve’s narrow hips, the strong muscles of his thighs, the jut of his hard cock against the stretchy black material of his boxer briefs.

 

He wondered if she’s appreciate the sight of it.  He wondered if seeing Steve unwrapped for the first time was more delightful than it was intimidating.  He wondered if she’d gape in surprise at how large Steve was when aroused, at how ridiculous the cut of his abs were when he was straining.  Would she figure out how sensitive his skin got and how…

 

What the fuck?

 

_What the fuck?_

 

What was he doing?

 

x.x.x.x.

 

Nothing.  That was what he was doing.  Absolutely nothing.

 

Steve got a second date and Bucky kept doing nothing with an unsurprising amount of determination.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

“Take your umbrella,” Bucky reminded him, trailing after Steve to the doorway.

 

“It’s not going to rain,” Steve said in the same obstinate tone he used every time he was wrong about something.  It was the same one he used the last time he told Bucky it wasn’t going to rain and then he got caught in a sleet storm for three hours and came down with pneumonia.  Then he had the gall to tell Bucky that it technically wasn’t rain.

 

“Uh huh,” Bucky answered, unimpressed by Steve’s logic, especially considering there were dark, charcoal colored clouds outside the window.  “Take the umbrella.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Steve answered him, shrugging on his leather jacket. “It doesn’t really go with the outfit.”

 

Part of Bucky felt a little proud that Steve picked looking good for his date over protecting himself from the elements.  Really.  It was like all the lessons in fashion he’d been trying to instill in Steve since they were fourteen had finally taken hold.

 

For his date.  With someone else.

 

“Good preparation is always sexy,” Bucky pointed out.  “Did you remember condoms and lube?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes in a good natured way.  “Yeah.”

 

“Good,” Bucky answered, jabbing the umbrella at him.  “Take the umbrella too.”

 

Steve opened the door without taking the umbrella from his hand. 

 

“Fine,” Bucky said, talking at Steve as he walked down the hallway towards the stairway.  “But when you return home soaking wet and your shirt completely see-through, I’m reaping the benefits as well as the ‘I-told-you-so’s.”

 

Steve gave him a look from the opposite end of the hallway.  “I’m not coming home tonight.  If I do, things went really wrong.  So don’t wait up.”

 

Bucky stood in the doorway watching as Steve disappeared into the stairwell, every nerve in his body feeling like frost had settled over it.  It settled for a moment before something hot and putrid burst open in his gut.

 

Fuck.

 

Bucky jerked backwards, his first thought to get himself out of the doorway.  The umbrella caught on the frame, falling out of his grasp and hitting the floor with a clatter.  “Fuck,” Bucky said out loud, a little louder than was strictly needed for a dropped umbrella.  He kicked the doorframe, his nostrils flaring as he tried to get control of himself.  For a second, he didn’t actually understand what was happening.

 

In retrospect, it was a blissful moment of ignorance.

 

Bucky was jealous.  So jealous.

 

Steve was back a few minutes later, a fine mist settled in his artfully tousled hair.  Bucky looked up from the beer in his hand, his traitor, traitor heart kicking up a beat at Steve appearing through the doorway, like he’d come back for Bucky.

 

But then, he had come back.

 

“It’s raining,” he said sheepishly.  “You know, I seriously considered just popping in a store and buying one so you’d never know that you were right.  You can say it.”

 

Bucky waved his hand towards the umbrella dangling from the hook they left it on.  He couldn’t look directly at Steve, couldn’t face what all that pride in how good Steve looked would translate in his head now.

 

“That’s it?” Steve questioned, staring at Bucky from the doorway, hesitating with his fingers curled around the umbrella.  “No I told you so?”

 

Bucky shook his head and made the mistake of looking directly at Steve.  He didn’t look any different than he had earlier.  Same old Steve.

 

And yet.

 

The thing that changed was Bucky.

 

“No,” Bucky answered, giving Steve what he hoped was a smile.  “Have fun tonight, ok?”

 

Steve frowned at him.  “Something’s wrong.”

 

Bucky laughed.  God.  “You need to leave.  Now.”

 

“No,” Steve answered, taking a step into the apartment.  “Not until you tell me what’s happened in the last five minutes.”

 

“No, I mean if you want to catch your train you literally need to leave right now,” Bucky answered, pointing at the time on the microwave.  “Seriously.  Go.  I’ll still be here tomorrow morning.”

 

Possibly sitting in the exact same position still trying to come to terms with how wrong he was by telling Steve that his perception of him would never change, because now Steve was moving on and Bucky?  Fuck, Bucky was moving right in to take Steve’s place in Unrequited Loveville.

 

Steve hesitated, looking like he might choose Bucky over his date.

 

Bucky loved this man, more than anything, and he’d already put Steve through so much.  That was why he couldn’t allow that to happen, not until he really knew for sure.  “Go,” he gestured, and he made sure to smile into the movement so Steve would feel better about leaving Bucky sitting there.  Assuaging Steve’s worry – it was the least he could do. 

 

x.x.x.

 

Bucky woke up to the feeling of Steve climbing into bed with him and his heartrate decided that it meant more than his rational brain told him it meant.  He wasn’t sure he could really blame his heart when his rational brain was holding out hope that Steve was going to continue moving, crawling over Bucky’s body until he could reach Bucky’s mouth with his mouth, or even settling halfway down the bed and waking Bucky up with a (very) surprise blowjob.

 

He had a new understanding for what Steve had been experiencing for years.

 

How could this ever be considered platonic? Part of his brain wondered, and yet he knew that it had never been anything but innocent between them for years.  It still was, Steve was fighting so hard to keep things normal, and Bucky wanted to kiss him for it.

 

Bucky thought he might actually want to kiss Steve for a lot of things if he allowed himself to actually think of Steve like that.  Steve settled against him, his body held tightly in on himself, and Bucky knew that it wasn’t a reaction to his proximity.  Something was wrong.  

 

Steve stared up at the ceiling and Bucky stared at him.

 

Bucky reached out and smoothed his hand down Steve’s shoulder.  “Are you ok?” he asked in the dark, and somehow not being able to see Steve’s face made it so much easier to talk to him.

 

“Mhhmm,” Steve answered into the pillow and Bucky could hear him nod, his hair brushing against the pillowcase.  “Everything went bad.”

 

“How bad?” Bucky questioned, lifting his head and squinting through the darkness at Steve.

 

Steve shrugged.  “I don’t want to talk about it.  I just need… I need my best friend.”

 

“You’ve come to the right place,” Bucky responded, and then made a face at himself because _what_? “Here,” he reached over and grasped Steve’s hand.  He tried to project a comforting kind of quiet.  He wasn’t very reassuring. “Dating sucks.  It does.  But eventually you’ll meet someone who makes all of it worth it.”

 

Steve inhaled shakily.  “I don’t want…” he started, but didn’t finish.  Bucky could feel Steve regroup, and all he wanted was for Steve to finish the sentence.  Maybe if Steve finished the sentence Bucky could impulsively blurt something of his own out that needed way more courage and thought than he currently had to give it.  “You’re right,” Steve finally admitted.  “I’ll be better at it, I promise. Will you help me sign up for that dating app? You know I’m terrible at profiles.”

 

“Yes,” Bucky promised, willing the lump in his throat to go away.  Signing Steve up for Tinder was the last thing he wanted to do.  “Of course.  But you don’t… you’re not doing anything _wrong_.”

 

“I should go to my own room,” Steve said, but didn’t move.   Time went by, and whether it was a few seconds or a few minutes, Bucky wasn’t sure.  He was starting to wonder if rolling over and kissing Steve would solve all those questions in his brain _what the hell_?  “I missed this,” Steve admitted.  “It’s nice to just lie here next to you and not feel like my boner is the elephant in the room.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky managed to croak out.

 

Now it was Bucky’s boner that was the elephant in the room, and really… how was he supposed to explain that?

 

Hey Steve, remember when I said no it could never happen?

 

 ** _Haha jk_**.

 

He said he’d never thought about it, but with Steve in bed next to him, it was _all_ he could think about.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

**Steve Rogers, 27**

 

_Hi,_

_I’m Steve. I enjoy art. Brooklyn born and raised by a wonderful single mom. I’m passionate about politics, feminism, and marriage equality. Looking for a long-term relationship._

 

“It’s…” Bucky hedged.  Fucking awful was what it was.  It simultaneously managed to capture Steve as a person, what he thought was appealing about himself, and also say absolutely nothing.  “It’s perfect! Bucky exclaimed. 

 

“Really?” Steve sounded skeptical.   “It’s almost exactly the same thing I wrote for OKCupid seven years ago, and you sat down with me for an hour re-writing and forcing me to answer invasive questions about myself.”

 

“Tinder is much more streamlined,” Bucky answered.  “Really you were just ahead of your time.”

 

“Ok,” Steve answered, sounding semi-convinced that Bucky wasn’t full of shit.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

It turned out that Bucky wasn’t full of shit.  People on Tinder liked Steve.  Bucky was a bit baffled by it.  His profile picture was one with a kind of sweet and goofy smile.  The only other picture Steve had up was one with him staring at the camera without any facial expressions at all.

 

Bucky figured it was the same phenomena as Steve somehow managing to look like a GQ photoshoot even with ketchup down his front: _the Steve Rogers effect._

 

Or whatever.

 

 _The Steve Rogers effect_ was currently making Bucky’s life a living hell.   He wasn’t sure what kind of douchebag it made him to be jealous, but he was.

 

A jealous douchebag.

 

“I matched with someone else,” Steve said, showing Bucky his phone screen with a sense of pride.

 

Bucky gritted his teeth and went back to chopping the vegetables for the stir fry he was making.  He paid extra attention to the knife in his hand, not just because he wanted to avoid looking at the asshole Steve matched with on his phone, but also because he was concerned he might chop off his own finger if he dwelled on it too much.

 

Steve laughed at something on the app and Bucky drew blood.  Not on his fingers, nowhere that noticeable.  His teeth had bit the inside of his cheek so hard that his mouth tasted like old pennies.

 

If only he had the sense to speak up, but he worried that he was only jealous of Steve trying to move on, as though watching Steve go through the steps was making Bucky feel proprietary.  He didn’t want to give Steve false hope.  Admitting that he was wondering if he was the only person for Steve and he wanted to see if sex could be on the table would only be courageous if Bucky was sure.  Otherwise it was the biggest asshole move he would make in his life.

 

Haha jk on thinking haha jk sorry.

 

And Bucky?  Bucky wasn’t sure.  Bucky was filled with doubts about _everything_.

 

He wasn’t even sure if Bucky was his real name anymore.

 

“This guy thinks I’m funny,” Steve said, snickering down at his phone before his eyes lifted to meet Bucky’s.  And fuck if he didn’t look pleased about it.  “He asked about my beliefs instead of telling me I’m hot.  Should I ask him to go for coffee?”

 

Bucky gritted his teeth again, so hard he was probably going to need dental work, and brought the knife down.  One of the pieces of carrots flew across the room.  “Sure, ask him for coffee.  Or do you mean _coffee_?”

 

“ _Coffee_? Is there slang now?”

 

“Coffee is kind of a euphemism.  _Wanna go for coffee_?” he waggled his eyebrows outrageously.  “Be careful with how you phrase it.  It’s the _Netflix and chill_ of 2010.”

 

“ _Netflix and chill_? Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” Steve questioned.

 

And Bucky kind of stopped breathing for a moment at the idea of that.

 

Then Steve’s mouth quirked up in a smirk as he looked at Bucky through his eyelashes.  Steve was being mischievous, pretending he didn’t know what it meant, but to Bucky it looked like something very close to being an offer.  “All I meant is that you grind coffee and then suck it down, so it would make sense if it was slang for a sex act.”

 

Bucky stared at him and couldn’t manage to say anything in response to that.  Steve had always been like that – a strange combination of innocent questions and a really dirty mind.  He just fucking hoped he could still drink coffee without thinking about it.

 

“You’re a funny guy,” Bucky deadpanned.  “Ask him for coffee and then get him to clarify his expectations.  I dare you.  You’ll see I’m right.”

 

Steve wrinkled his nose.  “It’s not like that.  I said in my profile I’m looking for long-term.  I’m sure he’ll see coffee as coffee.”

 

x.x.x.x.

 

The guy didn’t see coffee as coffee.  Bucky did not say I told you so.

 

“I shouldn’t have had sex with him,” Steve admitted the next morning, taking a sip of his actual coffee. “But… I haven’t done that in a while either.”  He looked closely at Bucky.  “Something’s up.”

 

“Nothing,” Bucky answered, hiding his face in his own coffee mug.  He was glad he picked the big one, proportional to the amount of coffee he’d have to consume to be awake after the night he’d spent worrying about Steve.  There was no point in hiding it.  “I’m just not used to it.  I was worried when you didn’t come home, and I know,” he continued, cutting off what he was sure Steve was about to point out about the amount of times Bucky had done the same, but Steve didn’t look like he was going to say anything.  “It was irrational.  I tried to tell myself that.  I’ll get used to it, it’s just… I’m so used to there being something wrong when you don’t come home that my brain equates it with danger.  Not you getting laid.”

 

“I can text you,” Steve offered.  “You do the same for me.  Every time.  I’m sorry I didn’t think of it.”

 

Bucky really did not want to get _hey getting laid_ texts.  He didn’t really want to _not_ get them either.  It wasn’t nice getting a small taste of what he’d been putting Steve through for years.

 

It really sucked.

 

Jesus Christ.  Bucky was the worst.

 

“I need a refill,” he muttered as Steve started talking about his night, including some of the dirty details.  Then, in a move of complete selflessness, he continued, “keep going, I’m listening.”

 

x.x.x.x.

 

Steve went on another date.

 

Then another.

 

It didn’t get better for Bucky.  He still couldn’t fall asleep from worry, even when Steve was home and sleeping in the next bedroom over, because every time he left the house to go on another one Bucky’s stomach clenched in fear, and Bucky wasn’t sure how much of the sensation he could attribute to jealousy.

 

At least some of it.  That was worrying.  What was worse was that Bucky was becoming more and more convinced that jealous was a small part of his reaction.  The fear wasn’t for Steve’s personal safety, that much he had figured out.  He was terrified that this person might be the one that stuck.  That this might be the person that Steve went on a second date with, a third, and then eventually called that person his boyfriend/girlfriend.  Proposed to them.  Married them.

 

He’d always seen himself as Steve’s best friend, standing next to him during all of the hallmark moments of his life, and he resigned himself to the idea that maybe he wouldn’t be able to be there for all of them.

 

Not if Steve was trying to rebound from Bucky. 

 

He had another dream, skin on skin, and it was so much worse than a sex dream.  His brain conjured Steve holding him in bed, his breath warm on the back of Bucky’s neck.  It felt sensual but disjointed, clearly not real in a way that left a gaping hole of loneliness in his chest when he woke up.

 

x.x.x.

 

“Didn’t you have a date last night?” Natasha asked, and while she wasn’t surprised that Steve walked into the café for brunch with Bucky, she was the first to raise her eyebrow at Steve’s dating _successes_.

 

 _Successes_ being the sarcastic way to word the string of failure dates Steve had been on.

 

“We’re not seeing each other again,” Steve answered, taking a sip of his coffee.  “Partially because he told me that his dick was so big that he didn’t feel comfortable with a partner who bottoms, and you know that I don’t really care what someone’s preference is or what their size is, but I do care if it’s used to shame my preferences, like he took one look at me and decided I was the top he needed and nothing else.  Turns out he oversold himself by a couple of inches, anyway.  Then when he got a good look at me naked he just kind of…” Steve made little ‘feet scampering’ motions with his fingers.  “Hid in the bathroom.”

 

Normally, Bucky would make a dirty joke at this point, trying to beat Steve to the punchline, but he had nothing.  He felt hot all over, thinking of Steve and sex.  He also felt indignant on Steve’s behalf, angry that anyone would try to pull this type of bullshit on Steve.

 

Steve stared at him for a moment, waiting.  “It was a pain in the ass,” he finished, frowning at Bucky.

 

Bucky gave him a wan smile.

 

“He did warn you,” Sam pointed out.

 

“There’s that for honesty,” Steve agreed, hitting the lid of his coffee against Sam’s.

 

“You deserve better,” Bucky said, clamping his hand on Steve’s wrist with an intensity that the situation probably didn’t call for, considering that Steve was sitting there joking about someone he’d already walked away from, and once again Bucky was a few steps behind.  “Don’t settle for that shit, Steve.”

 

“I won’t,” Steve promised.  He observed Bucky a bit more in confusion before getting to his feet. “Ok, I really need one of those lemon coconut squares and I don’t think I’m the only one who needs sugar.  Buck?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, not really sure what he was agreeing to.  “Oh! Yeah, if you’re gonna…”

 

“Ok,” Natasha said once Steve was heading towards the front of the café.  She looked directly at Bucky.  “What’s going on?”

 

“ _Nothing_ ,” Bucky answered a bit too loudly, pulling his attention away from Steve walking away.  Steve had a fantastic ass.  Did Bucky know Steve had a fantastic ass?  Yeah, in theory he knew.  He’d made jokes about Steve having an ass that wouldn’t quit.  He probably should have made that joke five seconds before.

 

That time, Bucky got Sam’s attention.  His head snapped up from his phone at the sound of Bucky’s voice and he looked over at him.  “What was that?”

 

“NOTHING,” Bucky pronounced, crossing his arms over his chest like a sulking child.  Jesus Christ.  What was happening to him?  Why was everyone up in his business?  Wasn’t he allowed to freak out about stuff on his own?

 

“I can’t believe you’re still being weird about this,” Sam gave Bucky a disappointed expression.  “Pull yourself together.”

 

Being weird about…? Oh.  That.  Weird about Steve asking Bucky out and Bucky valiantly pretending nothing had happened.  That was last month’s drama, but it felt like it had happened years ago.  Bucky couldn’t even say anything in his defense without releasing a bunch of gibbering nonsense about Steve’s ass and Bucky getting a little too invested in the fact that none of the dates he’d gone on had worked out.  “I’m _not_ being _weird_ about _anything_.”

 

“Well, that explains why Steve is crash and burning at dating,” Natasha mused, staring at him directly.  And she knew.  She definitely knew.  She was looking through his soul and finding him wanting. “You know the effect he has on people.  No one is immune.”

 

“Except Bucky,” Sam pointed out, missing the point entirely.  Fucking worst wingman ever.  At this point Sam should be tripping Bucky so he fell on Steve’s dick, not pointing out it was a place he never wanted to be.

 

Because that was a patent lie.

 

Probably.

 

Natasha smiled, all teeth.   “Someone needs to figure his shit out,” she said, and though she wasn’t looking at him anymore, Bucky knew that shade was being thrown directly at him.

 

“Give the poor man a break,” Sam answered.  “Bucky just broke his heart.  Sorry,” he said to Bucky.  “He’s going to be a little hesitant.  Plus, I don’t think Tinder is the best way to go about it.  Steve might not be a **Swipe Based On First Impressions** kind of guy.  You know how sensitive he is about his looks.”

 

“Steve thinks he’s doing well,” Bucky muttered, smiling over at Steve as he approached with Bucky’s lemon square.  He tried not to think about the way it made him happy that Steve was doing small things for him again.  He tried not to think about the way it worried him that Steve was doing small things for him again, like that he was somehow subliminally murking the line of friendship and Steve was falling back into bad habits because of it.  “Thanks,” he said softly, still taking the square because it was something Steve had bought for him.

 

Steve shrugged, and Bucky resolved to figure his shit out, for Steve’s sake if not his own.

 

x.x.x.

 

“I’ve been sabotaging him on purpose,” Bucky admitted over the phone.  “Not on purpose, on purpose, but I can’t let go of him the way I should.”

 

“I know,” Natasha answered plainly, and she didn’t sound like she was judging him, so it gave Bucky the courage to continue.

 

“I’m thinking of seducing Steve to see if I want to get close to his dick.  I need to figure that out before I tell him I changed my mind.”

 

“That’s a terrible idea.”

 

“I know!” Bucky answered, tugging at his hair and staring at his reflection in his dresser mirror.  He looked wild around the eyes, probably from lack of sleep.

 

“Talk to him.  If he’s managed to have the patience to put up with you for over twenty years of friendship, he’ll be able to help you figure this out.”

 

 _“I know,”_ Bucky answered.  “I’m not Steve.  I’m not brave enough to start a conversation like that.”

 

“Don’t seduce him, Bucky,” Natasha warned before hanging up on him.

 

x.x.x.

 

Bucky looked at himself in the mirror.  The pants were tight.  Tighter than was comfortable, but they drew the eye to all the right places and made him look exactly how he wanted to look.  His shirt also clung to his torso, softly folding in lines that highlighted the flat panes of his stomach without completely adhering to it like Steve’s shirts had a tendency to do.  There was a slight transparency to it that would only show under certain lights, something he hadn’t noticed in the store but that he used to his best advantage.

 

(that was a lie. Bucky knew exactly what he was buying)

 

He found himself nodding at his reflection as he moved through a few poses, checking for flexibility.  If he was going to gain attention, this was the outfit to do it in.

 

Steve barely blinked when Bucky emerged from his room.

 

But then, Bucky reminded himself, Steve had a lot of practice with ignoring how Bucky looked in outfits like this one.  “Are you ready to go?” he asked Steve, trailing his hand, for the briefest of seconds, over Steve’s shoulder.  It differed, just slightly, from a practiced friendship pat on the shoulder in the way Bucky’s fingers lingered.

 

“Sure,” Steve answered, grabbing his keys.  “Empty-handed? Don’t you have a gift for me?” he asked, smiling widely at Bucky to show he was joking.

 

“I’ll give it to you later,” Bucky responded with a quirk of his eyebrows and a flirty grin.  “I think you’ll like it a lot.”

 

“Ok,” Steve answered.

 

Yeah.  Ok.  This was definitely going to be harder than Bucky thought if Steve just ignored all the hints Bucky was throwing down.

 

x.x.x.

 

Bucky braced his hand on Steve’s thigh as he leaned forward over the table, holding conversation with Sharon about the new season of the Netflix show they both watched.  His hand kept creeping up, slowly enough that it seemed entirely accidental. His eyes met Natasha’s and he met her glare with one of his own.

 

He was part-way through eating when he realized.  “You smell like me,” he blurted out to Steve, quiet enough that no one else at the table seemed to notice.

 

Steve froze.  The fork in his hand hovered half-way to his mouth before he put it down.  “Sorry,” he muttered.  “I was in a good mood and sprayed it by accident.”

 

Bucky inhaled deeply, swaying closer.  “No, it’s ok.  It smells good.  Wear it.  Whenever.” He tried to sound casual but it came out the opposite.

 

Steve’s eyes cast towards him, dark with yearning for a flickering second before he schooled his face back into a smile.  “Thanks.”

 

Steve smelled really good.  Bucky was so, so fucked if he had to keep sitting next to him for a few more hours with that knowledge.  His tight pants only had so much extra room in them.  “Bathroom,” he muttered to Steve a few minutes later, stumbling to his feet to make a strategic exit so he could have a few moments to regroup.

 

“Do you think that you’re a present that Steve will enjoy unwrapping?” Natasha asked, waylaying him on his way back from the bathroom and dragging him in front of an empty booth on the opposite side of the restaurant from where they were sitting.  The family sitting closest to their conversation looked over in interest.  “You’re not doing him any favors.  You’re not doing yourself any favors.”

 

“Butt out,” Bucky hissed.  “I need to know.”

 

“No, you don’t.  Have you considered how gross this is?  He’ll never let you get away with it, first of all.  Second of all, he’s actually going to think you’re trying to do him _a favor_.  As in, you’re falling on your sword so you can give him a taste of your dick as a birthday present.”

 

Bucky made a face at her.

 

“I recommend you stay here and think about it for five minutes.”

 

Natasha was absolutely wrong. 

 

Bucky wasn’t making some kind of sacrifice.  He just wanted to know if he and Steve were sexually compatible, because his heart raced when he looked at Steve and everything was so confusing.  Natasha was absolutely wrong.

 

Unless she was right.

 

Fuck.

 

The family staring at him with judgy-eyes seemed to agree.

 

When Bucky returned to the table he was a lot more subdued, to the point where Steve asked him if he was ok out of concern.  “Sure,” Bucky answered, but didn’t reach out to touch him like he would have earlier.  “Just digesting.”

 

Steve smiled, reaching over and rubbing Bucky’s middle.  “The cake is coming in a minute, so hurry up,” he said, and whether he was talking to Bucky or Bucky’s stomach was anyone’s guess. 

 

Bucky closed his eyes against the touch.  Fuck.  Fuck, he reminded himself.  Platonic.  Had they ever been truly platonic?  He could feel himself reacting to Steve’s touch in a way he hadn’t before, in public, though it was becoming shockingly normal in their apartment.  When he opened his eyes again, it wasn’t only Natasha carefully observing him.  Sharon had joined in too, her head tilted to the side as she considered him.  Her mouth was open in a silent ‘oh.’

 

Of course his inner turmoil and boner for Steve were obvious.  Of course they were.

 

Sam remained oblivious.

 

Bucky was grateful for Sam.

 

Still thought he was a shit wingman, though.

 

But not as shitty as Bucky was.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

“You said you have a present for me?” Steve asked from his bedroom as he changed while Bucky put away the left-over cake.  If Bucky leaned over the counter he probably had a good angle to watch through the open door, so he didn’t lean over the counter.  From the corner of his eye he could see Steve emerge.  “What is it?”

 

Bucky turned to tell him to be patient and his brain went dead for a moment.

 

Christ, Bucky jolted.  What the fuck was Steve wearing?  The pajama bottoms he had on were so old they were practically translucent in places and so soft that they molded to the skin beneath them in a way that revealed far more than Steve probably intended on them to. 

 

Fuck.

 

Ok.

 

Fuck, he told himself it was a bad idea, that _seducing Steve < having an actual conversation about his feelings_.

 

He definitely wasn’t ready to have an actual conversation, but he was so on board with seducing Steve it wasn’t funny.

 

“You’re thinking too hard about something,” Steve observed.

 

And maybe, maybe the thought would have passed by in his head if Steve hadn’t said what he said next.

 

“Stop thinking. Your face might stick like that.”

 

“I have a special birthday present for you,” Bucky said in a seductive tone, pushing Steve backwards until the backs of his legs hit against the couch cushions and he toppled back into a sprawl.

 

“What are you…?” Steve questioned as Bucky got to his knees in front of him, his fingers hesitating over the ties of Steve’s pajama pants before he pushed up Steve’s shirt, pressing his mouth just below Steve’s navel.

 

He’d wondered if this was something he wanted to do, but in that moment there was nothing more he wanted than to unwrap Steve like a present and make him feel so good he remembered that Bucky was the one he was in love with.

 

Steve inhaled shakily as a response.  “Bucky?” he questioned hesitantly, as though he wasn’t sure Bucky was actually there.  His hand reached out, resting in Bucky’s hair before sliding to just above his ear.

 

“Let me,” he said, nuzzling against Steve’s cotton-covered erection with a type of reverence he wasn’t sure he’d be able to feel.  “I’ll make you feel so good,” he promised, sliding his hands up Steve’s thighs, the material of his loose pajama bottoms bunching with the movement of Bucky’s fingers.  He always thought that the words ‘let me’ were to convince someone into allowing him to do what he wanted, but he understood now how they could come from a place of need.  He needed Steve to give him permission for this, to allow Bucky to kneel in front of him and show him the things he couldn’t yet say.  Bucky’s fingers tightened as he pushed himself upwards towards Steve so he could look him in the eye on a more equal level.  “ _Please_.”

 

Steve was staring back at him, mouth open with shock.

 

“Oh Jesus,” Steve said in response, fingers moving down so he was cupping Bucky’s cheek.  He moved forward, shockingly fast, and then they were kissing.  It was hard and frantic, neither of them expecting to get another chance.   The heat of it curled through Bucky, so dizzying he had no idea how he had doubts about anything.

 

Steve’s mouth was more than enough of a revelation, and he smelled _amazing_.

 

“Happy Birthday,” Bucky murmured, deft fingers working at the drawstring of Steve’s pants.  His mouth was watering at the idea of going down on Steve’s dick. Bucky would make it so good and show Steve that he’d been right all along, they were perfect for each other.

 

“What?” Steve said, voice muffled by the side of Bucky’s neck.  He pulled back and looked at Bucky’s face, his lips red and slick from Bucky’s kiss.  “What?” he repeated, stopping Bucky’s hands.  “Don’t.” His tone was firm and his expression had hardened into one that added strength to the words.  Bucky withdrew immediately.

 

“Steve?” Bucky asked.

 

“I can’t do this,” Steve answered, getting to his feet and stalking into his bedroom.  Bucky was left kneeling on the floor, feeling cold all over.

 

And disappointed.

 

And aroused.

 

And.

 

Well, that answered that question.

 

x.x.x.

 

Bucky skulked out of his bedroom after listening at the door to see whether Steve was awake and in the kitchen.  After not hearing any movement for a few moments, he decided the coast was clear and got halfway through measuring out coffee before Steve opened his bedroom door, shoulders thrown back in his clearly combative pose.

 

Steve wasn’t going to let Bucky get through his morning coffee without a confrontation.

 

Bucky sighed and turned back to throwing coffee grinds into the filter so he could at least get the coffee going.  They were going to need it.

 

“Bucky,” Steve spoke to get his attention.  “You tried to seduce me last night.”

 

Right to the point.

 

“Yes,” Bucky answered, looking Steve in the eye.

 

Steve seemed a little baffled by the honesty, blinking once before continuing in a softer voice. “Everything about last night was about trying to seduce me.  Your clothing.  The touching.”

 

“Yes.” He could feel his face heat up with shame, and for all the times he mocked Steve about blushing, he had a tendency to forget that he could do the same.  He felt small for thinking that seducing Steve was ever a good idea.  He hadn’t slept worrying about.   He’d ruined everything.

 

“So do it,” Steve dared him, throwing his hands wide. 

 

Bucky stared at him.

 

“Or can you not now that you don’t have your sexy pants on? Or maybe because it’s no longer my _birthday_?” he spit out.

 

Mockery he deserved.

 

Bucky laughed bitterly.  “I don’t need to seduce you, Steve.  I got my answer when I was _disappointed_ you wouldn’t let me blow you.”

 

That seemed to throw Steve. “What?”

 

“Did you miss the fact you practically had to pry me off you with a crowbar?”

 

Steve stared at him.  Blinked, going completely still just long enough that when he blinked again it was like he was rebooting. Frowned.  Kept staring.  He opened his mouth.  Closed it.

 

Blinked.

 

Bucky watched all of it, waiting for an actual response.  It felt terrible, and he had a little bit more appreciation for what Steve had meant when he said that Bucky blurting out his answer to Steve telling him he loved him at least made it so the bullet left the chamber quicker.

 

“ _For fucksakes, Bucky_ , are you pouting?” Steve questioned impatiently.  “Could you maybe give me a second to figure out what’s happening here before you start looking like I’m breaking your heart?”

 

“ _Are you?”_ Bucky asked.  And wow.  Yep.  That came out a little shrill.  He had a ridiculous moment of realizing that if he’d been the one who admitted his feelings to Steve first that the whole thing would have been a fucking train wreck if this was the way Steve managed that kind of conversation.  It made Bucky’s answer seem _kind_.

 

“ _Can I?”_ Steve’s eyes were wide, his expression was an open sense of wonder and hope.  “ ** _Oh_**. _Bucky?_ ”

 

“I love you,” Bucky answered, still so worried he was going to _break_ Steve instead.  “Maybe romantically.  But I don’t know the difference anymore.  What if I’m wrong?”

 

Steve grinned and his eyes started to water.  “What if you’re right?”

 

Bucky didn’t really have an answer for that.  “I’ve been so selfish.  And it’s terrible of me to ask this of you after I promised you that I wouldn’t change my mind, but… I can’t keep watching you date people who aren’t me without telling you how I feel, and if you’d rather not be with me anymore, we can get through this too, but if you still think that… we can…”

 

“Why do people think I’m dramatic?” Steve answered with a roll of his eyes, still smiling.  “It’s always been you and if it turns out that you don’t feel the same, we’ll figure it out.  But you want to try, and that’s… I want that, more than anything.”

 

“Just like that?”

 

“Why does it need to be complicated?” Steve asked, pulling Bucky towards him while laughing.  He braced his chin on Bucky’s shoulder and the contact felt so good after a month of Bucky being so aware of his own body language.  Steve seemed to be clinging to him just as hard. “Drama is overrated.”

 

“Ok, Steve,” Bucky answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes and enjoying the feeling of Steve laughing against him.

 

It was pure joy.

 

“I’ve been so miserable trying to date people,” Steve admitted.

 

“Same. I’ve hated witnessing it.  I’ve been such a terrible friend about it, too.  Your online profile was supposed to be terrible,” Bucky murmured into Steve’s hair.  Steve hadn’t showered since last night, and still smelled vaguely of Bucky’s cologne.  It was definitely one of his turn-ons.

 

Steve held him closer, sounding weirdly pleased, “this isn’t something you decided last night.  You’ve been thinking about it.”  

 

“Too much.  Hey,” he continued, guiding Steve’s head into facing him.  “Cm’ere.  I think I remember you daring me to seduce you somewhere in there.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, his eyelashes fluttered.  “Do that.”  He moved his hands so they were sliding up the back of Bucky's shirt, leaning forward to kiss him.  

 

x.x.x.

 

Later, Bucky stared up at the ceiling in the living room, the television remote poking him in the back, and Steve breathing heavily against his neck, and laughed.  Fuck.  Way to not even make it to a bedroom.  “Speaking of who seduced whom, what did you think would happen when you smelled like me and wore threadbare pants? If you’re going to point fingers you should point some at yourself.”

 

Steve lifted his head enough to look at him.  “I didn’t think you’d notice.  You never noticed before.  I maybe… it’s stupid…”

 

“What’s stupid?”

 

"Well, it was my birthday and I wanted to forget that I'd stopped trying.  Just for a day."

 

"I think we'll be ok," Bucky promised him, because that was heartbreaking.

 

"You just broke the coffee table trying to get to my jacket for lube and condoms," Steve pointed out like the little asshole he was.  "You're probably right."

**Author's Note:**

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